


Hurricane

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Listen to Me [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bad Communication, Confirmation Sex, Drug Abuse, F/M, M/M, Miscommunication, Rape/Non-con Elements, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6557965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new girl in class. Her name's Martha. She's beautiful. Funny. Happy. She's everything a person could want. </p><p>But John doesn't want her. </p><p>And he'd really wish she'd stop kissing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/gifts).



> This was based off of a prompt on Writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle's tumblr. 
> 
> They requested that someone write a Martha/John Confirmation Sex scene where John has sex with Martha because he's pressured into it, but he doesn't want to have sex with her. 
> 
> OR 
> 
> He's pressured into having sex with a girl because of his father. 
> 
> So I did both. 
> 
> Please keep in mind this story, and it's sequel, will deal /heavily/ with rape/non-con themes. 
> 
> While it is not graphic, it is prevalent and part of this story.

Her name is Martha Manning. 

Martha. Like his sister. He doesn’t call her ‘Marty,’ though. She’s just ‘Martha’, and John fully intends to keep it that way. 

Ducking his head, John shifts his weight from foot to foot. Listens as she tells him her life-story. It’s not that he isn’t interested...it’s just he doesn’t particularly know what to say. Wishes he’d stayed with Alex instead. Alex never runs out of words. Can come up with them at the drop of a hat. John...needs more time. 

“I just moved here, from California,” she tells him. Smiling with all her teeth. He licks his lips. Rubs his sweaty palms against his jeans. 

Feeling self-conscious, he asks “Did you like it there?” Hoping it’s the right question to ask. There isn’t much that he knows about California. It’s on the ocean. There’s a lot of sand. They’re a liberal state, though they pass some of the most bizarre laws.  

Martha nods. “Yeah...my parents moved us here ‘cause of work. But I want to go back. Home is home. You know?” John nods. Bites his lips. He doesn’t really know what to say to her. Thinks that maybe it’d be best if they just went their separate ways now. “You’re pretty handsome,” she tells him boldly. 

For a moment, he’s not sure he knows what she’s talking about. Is partly convinced that she’s poking fun. But she doesn’t seem like the type. In fact, she’s smiling brightly. Starting to shift a little closer. John glances about the crowded room. 

Catches sight of Alex standing not too far away. He’s watching them. Two thumbs up. John feels his stomach squeezing uncomfortably within him. “Thanks?” He mumbles. Still not sure if he’s doing this right. 

_ (“Honestly Jack, you’re seventeen years old and you haven’t even gotten your dick wet?”) _

Martha’s not... _ ugly.  _ She’s very pretty. Heart-shaped face with dark brown hair. Grey eyes. She’s wearing nice clothes. Wealth sliding off her like it’s no big deal. She takes a step towards him, and he can physically  _ feel  _ his skin crawling. It’s a mess. Everything. All of it. 

He feels anxiety starting to build within him. 

_ (“It’s not that fucking hard. Are you a man or aren’t you?”)  _

Alex turns his back and walks deeper into the crowd. John wishes he wouldn’t go. Wishes he’d come back and interrupt this conversation. Because he doesn’t want to have it. Doesn’t want to think about Martha. Doesn’t want to listen to his dad’s voice on repeat in his head. 

He’s tired. 

He just wants to go home. 

Martha reaches out her hand and places it on John’s cheek. She guides him toward her and lifts up on her toes to press her lips against his. He freezes. Her thumb strokes his cheek as she pulls back. “It’s nice to meet you John Laurens.” 

John nods. 

He doesn’t know what else to say. 

_ (“Well. That was easy enough to find out. Guess you aren’t. What a surprise.”) _


	2. Chapter 2

Martha is in some of John’s classes. She smiles at him when he walks through the door. Winks when she catches his eye. Licks her lips when she glances his way. A few of the other boys in class try flirting with her, but she tunes them out. She isn’t interested. She doesn’t glance at them once. 

She only has eyes for John. 

Alex wolf-whistles when he catches on. Waggling his eyebrows at John. Asking him what he did to catch Martha’s eye. Congratulates him on his prowess. John tells him to knock it off. It’s not funny. He doesn’t know what to do. 

“Do you like her?” Alex asks as he crawls into bed beside John. John nudges him and moves so he can wrap his arms around Alex’s body. 

“Not like I like you,” John mumbles. Alex laughs. 

“You’ve never done it with a girl before, have you?” 

Alex knows the answer to that question. Knows that John had been a virgin before they’d started fooling around. Knows that John hasn’t gone with anyone else. The question rankles. Irritating the skin beneath John’s eyes. It twitches back and forth. 

John shakes his head. Brow rubbing against Alex’s spine. He doesn’t understand why it matters. Why they can’t just have this. Just the two of them. Well. The two of them and everyone else Alex decides to fuck. 

John knows they’re not exclusive. 

_ (“That’s the trouble with the gays, Jack. They can never be happy.”) _

John hugs Alex even tighter. Tries to even out his breathing. He doesn’t want to think about Martha Manning. Doesn’t want to think about what she’s interested in. What she wants from him. What she expects.

It’s moments like this, Alex soft and gentle beneath him, John thinks everything else can just float away. Disappear into the abyss. Leave him alone. It’s a rare moment to relax. To find peace. To pretend everything will be all right.  

In the morning, Martha meets them at the school gates. She slides her hand into John’s and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning!” She greets brightly. 

“Morning,” he returns. Quieter. To himself. He wishes Alex would speak up for him. Act as his voice and tell Martha she needs to back off. Leave him alone. He doesn’t want to play anymore. 

“Walk me to class?” she asks him. Batting her eyelashes. She squeezes his hand. 

_ (“Christ Jack, why do I even bother with you?”) _

“Sure.” 

Once, when John was a kid, he walked passed his parents’ room late at night. He could hear the sounds of their union in all of its righteous glory. His father groaning as he pushed into his mother. His mother gasping. Crying. He looked between the crack in the door. Watched as his father jerked his mother back by her hair. 

His mother looked up, and saw him. 

She’d mouthed one word to him.  _ Run.  _

John wishes he could run now. 

But there’s no place to go. He’s alone


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t reciprocate, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Just squeezes his hand harder. Drags him to their next class. Their schedules sliding together in perfect harmony. John hates every second of it.

Martha’s not a bad person. John even enjoys getting to know her. She’s funny. They do have a lot in common. Had she been interested in him as a friend, John would have gladly spent time with her.

Martha doesn’t want to be his friend. She leaves endless kisses against his cheeks. Ghosts her lips across his. Trails them down his neck. Ignores it when he freezes beneath her touch. Keeps going, even in the hallway at school. John’s incapable of speaking. Of saying ‘no.’ He doesn’t know what, or how, to say it.

He doesn’t reciprocate, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Just squeezes his hand harder. Drags him to their next class. Their schedules sliding together in perfect harmony. John hates every second of it.

“I’m not…comfortable with this,” he tries to tell her once. Shifting his weight. Struggling to make eye contact. He’s so bad at this.

_(“There’s something wrong with you, Jack. You must know it.”)_

Martha tilts her head to the side and considers him. “PDA?” she clarifies.

“No. Just. All of it. I just. I’m not…I don’t want to…can’t we just stay friends?” She seems to consider the request. Then grins broadly.

“You _dog_ you.” He has no idea what that means. But she leans forward and kisses him again. “Sure, Johnny,” he _hates_ that name more than anything else, “We can stay _friends._ ” He’s dragged to his next class feeling as though there’d been no point. Why even bother bringing it up? Nothing changes.

Their Biology Teacher, Mr. Wright, introduces them to their latest classmate. A turtle named Wilson who will be their new class pet. Their job will be to research Wilson’s species and create a care plan for him. Make sure that Wilson gets the life he deserves.

John watches Wilson their whole class. Watches how he keeps tucked in his shell. Suspicious gaze roaming about the classroom. Wilson is afraid of them. Afraid, but it doesn’t matter. Because Mr. Wright’s put him in a glass cage where everyone can see him and no one actually cares.

There’s an argument over who gets to hold Wilson first. There’s a discussion on the right kind of food. “We can’t just feed him carrots and lettuce!” John opens his textbook and starts looking for anything on turtles. Martha leans in close.

“It’s kind of cruel, isn’t it?” He doesn’t know what she means. He hopes it’s a self reflective statement. Even though he knows it isn’t.

“What is?”

“Wilson. Do you think they’ll bring him home over the weekend?”

John’s eyes snap up to look at the turtle. He licks his lips. John’s projecting. He _knows_ he’s projecting. It’s a turtle. It’s a turtle in a glass cage in a school. “They better not leave him,” John says. Alex is going to kill him. But, one way or another, he’s going to find out. He’s not going to let Wilson be mistreated by anyone in this school. No matter what.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex bites at his lips and rocks their hips together. “You should do her,” he sighs. John flinches away.
> 
> “Can’t I just do you?” he asks.
> 
> “She’s offering?”
> 
> “But I don’t want to have sex with her.” It’s easier to tell Alex that. Easier to tell him then try to explain it to Martha.

John isn’t sure why he’s surprised Martha invites herself to his breaking and entering scheme. He hadn’t even had a chance to tell Alex yet, when she drags him to the side and starts plotting. He feels like a bug under a microscope. Watching and listening as she tells him her plan. What they should do. How they should do it.

She’s not dumb. It makes sense. And…she seems to care about Wilson. Seems honestly upset that Wilson might be in danger. John lets her lead. Lets her take him by his hand and drag him about. Gesturing to the window that’ll serve as their point of entry. Plotting their travel to the room and back. “We just need to make sure Wilson’s not here over the weekend. Right?” She asks.

He nods.

If he isn’t there, then it’s fine. But…Wilson shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be kept here only for the amusement of teenagers and their teacher.

Martha makes him promise to meet her at ten o’clock sharp. He promises. He gets another kiss. He swallows down his complaints and stuffs his hands into his pockets. John needs to meet Alex. They’re going to dinner.

When they meet, Alex teases him about Martha. “Have you done it yet?” he shakes his head in response. Catches Alex’s hand himself and pulls him close. He kisses _Alex._ It feels so much more comfortable with Alex in his arms. Against him.

Alex bites at his lips and rocks their hips together. “You should do her,” he sighs. John flinches away.

“Can’t I just do you?” he asks.

“She’s offering?”

“But I don’t want to have sex with her.” It’s easier to tell Alex that. Easier to tell him then try to explain it to Martha. Alex frowns for a moment. His expression turning nasty. Nasty enough that John fears _he’s_ about to be the target.

_(“Jack!? Jack!? Where are you, boy!?”)_

“John…do you want her to touch you like that at all?” John’s frozen in place. His words are frozen in his throat. His head is spinning.

He’s going to be sick.

No. He’s going to manage. He always does.

 _(“The school called. You have a…_ boy _friend?”)_

John shrugs. He can’t speak. Can’t explain the answer he wants to give. And if he can’t tell Alex, he knows he’ll never be able to tell Martha. Never be able to explain that to him, women were mothers and caretakers. They didn’t turn him turn-on, or fill him with desire. He just…doesn’t _want_ them like that.

And why can’t everyone stop thinking about sex in the first place? He’s seventeen. He doesn’t want to think about who’s doing who and why.

He wants Alex.

Alex, who never wants anything exclusively. But that’s fine. Because Alex comes home with him at night. Him and no one else.

Alex holds his hand. “Just…don’t do anything that you don’t want to do.”

John actually laughs. What a useless thing to say


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex rarely tops.
> 
> But it’s the only thing John thinks will make him feel right.
> 
> His body comes alive, and he pushes back against Alex. Groans when Alex drags his fingernails down John’s back.
> 
> He comes when sharp spikes of pain starburst behind his eyes.
> 
> Everything is perfect.
> 
> He’s at peace.

John and Alex return to John’s apartment. They wrestle a little. And John relishes how Alex feels against his body. He tries to take in every little moment. Feeling, absurdly, like this is the last time they’ll be like this. Like something’s going to change.

He lets Alex pin him. Lets him whisper, “Toppers top,” with the greatest amount of satisfaction against his ear. Alex rarely wins. So John lets him have his moment. Lets him pull John’s clothes off. Relishing in the fact that he’s won. John doesn’t mind. Tonight…this is the only thing he wants.

Alex licks his way down John’s body. Put his mouth against John’s hole and lavishes it with his tongue. John arcs beneath Alex’s touch. Eyes fluttering as he gasps. Moaning as Alex slides two fingers in.

Hot breath whispers past John’s ear, “Do you like this? Is this what you want?” And it is. It’s exactly what John wants. Alex lines up. John can’t be bothered to think about whether he’s using a condom. He just lays supine and breathless.

He never feels more alive than in moments like this. When their fights turn sexual. When they get to spend themselves in each other in a way that no one would ever understand. Like gladiators in the arena, whoever wins the fight, wins the right to conquest.

Alex rarely tops.

But it’s the only thing John thinks will make him feel right.

His body comes alive, and he pushes back against Alex. Groans when Alex drags his fingernails down John’s back.

He comes when sharp spikes of pain starburst behind his eyes.

Everything is perfect.

He’s at peace.

Alex is asleep when John sneaks out. Curled up on John’s bed.  He looks peaceful.

John can still feel where Alex had his way with him. He’d been insatiable tonight. One moment of passion devolving into three. Alex wanted more and more. He always wants more. It’s why John’s never going to be enough. Why Alex always finds someone else to do. “I just have to feel something,” Alex excused every time it happens.

John’s trained himself to not be jealous.

_(“What’s your point?”)_

Meeting Martha at the school, he wonders if this is what Alex feels like whenever someone else kisses him. She throws her arms around his neck. Lips press against his. Her hands wrapped in his hair. He can still feel some of Alex slipping out of his ass, and it’s likely all in his head, but the sensation feels like betrayal.

He hates it.

“Let’s go find Wilson,” he requests. She nods, and leads him forward.

They break into the school, sliding through an open window. Martha unlocks the door of the classroom they start in. She hurries down the halls. John follows her. Sneaking as best he can. Listening for sounds of movement.

He hears it.

“Martha!” he hisses. She glances at him. Then pulls him into a closet, and quickly shuts the door. They’re alone in the dark


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s dark in here. Too dark. John closes his eyes. He chose it to be like this. He chose it to be dark. This isn’t a box. This isn’t a trap. This is his choice. He’s choosing to let this happen. He can stop at any time. He can tap out. He can open the door. Can accept the consequences for his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that there is a scene of intense non-con in this section.

Martha’s body is too close.

John trembles as he stands there. Her arms around his neck. Her hips pressed against his own. He can feel her heart beating in her chest. Or maybe that’s his own heart. Pounding endlessly quick in his ears.

The sounds of footsteps gets louder and louder. Approaching their closet with singular determination. John can see a flashlight shimmer beneath the door crack. Then it walks right on by. The footsteps getting softer.

“Security?” John asks as loud as he dares. Voice barely above a whisper.

_(“Why are you always in trouble? Why can’t you just stay out of fucking trouble for once in your life?”)_

“In this school?” Martha scoffs.

Neither are brave enough to open the door yet.

Martha is still pressed far too close. He tries to move to give her more room, but there’s a wall against his back. There’s nowhere to go. He hears her let out a laugh. “Someone’s happy at least.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. His pulse is pounding even faster now. Drowning out phantom footsteps that still echo in his mind. She kisses him. Not a light friendly kiss either. Not the chaste attempts that she’d done for weeks.  No.

She _kisses_ him. Moving her lips, her tongue. His hands go to her hips and try to push her back. “Stop—” she drowns him out. “— _Wait.”_

“Shhh, they’ll hear.”

His voice dies. She kisses him with more intensity. John listens. Listens. Someone’s coming. Someone’s going to come. Someone’s going to stop this. “They’ll arrest us if we’re caught.”

_Please stop._

It’s dark in here. Too dark. John closes his eyes. He _chose_ it to be like this. He _chose_ it to be dark. This isn’t a box. This isn’t a trap. This is his choice. He’s choosing to let this happen. He can stop at any time. He can tap out. He can open the door. Can accept the consequences for his actions.

Martha’s hand is at the snap of his jeans. They’re unzipping him. Pulling him out. He’s frozen in place. Listening for footsteps. Counting time by the beat of his heart. Warm heat wraps around him. He tries to push her back one final time, but she’s relentless. It’s futile.

He can’t do anything or say anything. It’ll make too much noise.

_(“I don’t want to see you, or hear you. Just stay up there and be quiet for God’s sake. And if you’re lucky, no one will know you’re in this house.”)_

He feels wet. Everything feels wet. Like he’s melting away into nothingness. She’s pressing in close. There’s pressure building within him, but it’s taking its time. He and Alex had spent themselves with each other earlier. There’s not much left to give. Minutes drag on. Footsteps come and go once more.

She’s getting desperate. Using her hands to help her along. John feels sort of detached from everything.

When he comes, it’s weak and meager. He slumps back. Defeated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of this was for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that there will be another scene of intense non-con in this chapter.

Martha tells him he should have warned her before he ejaculated in her mouth. Doesn’t he know that’s rude? John doesn’t know what else to say. He apologizes. She tucks him back into place, and then zips him up. Wiping her fingers against his jeans. “Are you going to do anything for me now?” she asks.

“Someone'll hear,” he whispers.

“I’ll be quiet,” she promises. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and she guides him down to his knees. He doesn’t fight. Lets her move him. She lifts her skirt. It’s the first time he even thought the skirt seemed out of place. He’s so stupid.

His head tilts forward, and she guides him to her body. _I’ve done this to Alex,_ John thinks. He brings his tongue to her, and he tries. Alex likes this. Spent hours telling John about the various girls he’s fucked and what it was like.

He gave John instructions, which he follows now. Start off slow, rev it up. Like a diesel engine. His fingers rise. He presses them inside her. Alex is right. She’s wet enough on her own. He moves. In and out. In and out. He bends them this way and that.

It’s clinical. Health class. This is the vagina. There’s the cervix. That’s where the babies come out. The urethral opening is under John’s tongue. That’s the clitoris.  He tilts his head forward and rests his brow on her stomach. Her hands are in his hair and she’s bucking against him. Gushing wet all over his body.

She sighs upon completion. “So good…” She steps back. His hands fall to his lap. “Tell me thank you.”

It’s still dark. She can’t see the tears on his face. Can’t see how battered and bruised he really feels. In all of the fights he’s had with Alex, nothing has left him as worn out as this. “Thank you,” he tells her. She leans down.

Kisses him firmly. He can taste himself on her lips. He’s so tired.

Martha adjusts her clothing. Pulls him to his feet. They don’t speak. Instead, they wait for the footsteps to fade into the distance. And they sneak to Mr. Wright’s classroom.

The door is locked, but when they peer through the window…it’s empty.

The cage is gone. Mr. Wright took it home.

All of this was for _nothing_.

John’s feet freeze to the floor. “We should go,” Martha tells him. He can’t move. Despite hearing footsteps echoing closer. “Johnny, we need to go!” He’s so tired. He can’t leave. He can’t do anything.

He should get punished for this.

He broke into the school. For no reason at all. He—He— _He’s_ _exhausted_.

Martha leaves.

Disappearing around the corner as a flashlight rounds the bend. “Hey! What are you doing here!?” John looks up into the beam.

“I just wanted to see the turtle,” he replies.

He thinks he might still be crying.

But it doesn’t matter.

He’s arrested. And someone calls his father.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...you’re not a child.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: heavy themes of depression

Henry Laurens appears, in person, to get John out of jail. John’s not even sure why. But he’s there. And the police are oddly lenient. He’s given a slap on the wrist. _No this won’t go in your permanent record, but do behave in the future._ John promises he will. Hugs his arms across his chest, and follows his father into his car.

“Sit in the front, you’re not a child,” his father tells him when he goes to sit in the seat behind the driver’s. He circles the vehicle and changes position. Settles in. Tries not to curl up into a ball. “Heard a different story from the officers,” his father wastes no time in telling him. “They said there were two kids over at the school tonight. Saw a girl taking off across the lawn. You know who that is?”

_(“Don’t you fucking lie to me, Jack.”)_

“Yes,” John whispers.

“Wasn’t _really_ about a turtle, was it?” John has no idea at this point, but he suspects not. Martha didn’t care about the turtle. Not really. He shakes his head. “Hah! That’s my boy.” John turns to stares. Disbelieving. His father’s grinning. “Was it your first time?” John knows what he’s really asking. Knows that telling the man that he’s been fucking Alex for nearly four months would not go over well.

He lies a little. Changes the question. Was this his first time with a _woman?_ “Yes.”

“You use protection?” John’s not sure why his father wants to have this conversation with him. Why he’s pretending they have a close enough relationship to justify any of this. It feels like an interrogation. Where one wrong move ends up with him unconscious in the trunk. Bleeding to death while the man contemplates his guilt.

“No,” he says. “We didn’t have… _sex.”_

“She swallow?” John flinches. That’s crude. He tries not to think of the times he listened to his father groaning in his bedroom.

_(“The only thing you’re good for. Swallow me down. Swallow it. There. That’s a good little whore.”)_

He wants to go home. Back to bed. Back to Alex.

John nods his head. Suppressing the flinch when his father slaps his arm with _pride._ “Maybe you aren’t hopeless yet. What’s this girl’s name?”

“Martha Manning,” he gives it out fully. Not nearly suicidal enough to just say ‘Martha’ and let his father work out if he’d just admitted to fucking his little sister. Assumedly the man would know not…but frankly John isn’t sure.

“I’m going to be throwing a party near here for some clients. I expect you’ll attend. And bring Martha along. There’s some bedrooms upstairs.” His father actually winks at him.

John stares. He feels like his insides have been scrubbed raw with a bristle brush. Rubbing away at his interior until there was nothing left at all. He nods his head. “I’ll be sure to ask her.”

“You do that.”

John wishes he could sleep forever. He’s so tired of existing.


	9. Chapter 9

Everyone at school found out about John’s late night trip into the building to check on the turtle. Most of them laugh at him for it. A few of them call them names straight to his face. One has the decency to shove him hard enough his head bangs off a locker. It’s not hard enough to knock him out, but the pain is steadying. It feels like a natural extension of his life.

Alex thinks the story is hilarious when he hears it. John doesn’t fill him in on the details. It’d take away from the pure joyous abandon Alex has when he thinks about John. “You always did love turtles, didn’t you?” Alex asks as they walk back to John’s apartment.

John agrees, “They’re nice.”

His friend’s not dumb. He can tell when something’s wrong. “You okay? Trevor hit you too hard?”

He shakes his head. “My father’s in town. He’s who got the charges dropped. Who…took me home last night.”

Alex’s feet stop. They’re standing awkwardly in the sidewalk. John ducks his head. “You didn’t say.”  The accusation is filled with hurt.

John’s so tired of hurting the person he cares about.

_(“That’s what you do.”)_

“John?” Alex rests a hand against John’s cheek. He flinches.

“Not in public.” _Not with_ him _here,_ is left unsaid. Alex doesn’t complain. Just nods. Lets John lead him back to familiar territory. Someplace safe and free from harm.

They go inside, and John closes the door. Locks it. Checks that the apartment is empty. That his father hasn’t somehow hidden himself inside, lying in wait for John to return.

Alex lets him. Doesn’t say a word as John walks door to door. Ducking his head in and confirming all is well, before standing in front of Alex like a tin soldier. “John?” Alex asks again.

“He’s invited me and my…girlfriend...to go to a party. Has a bedroom all picked out for us to make use of.”

“Make…use?” John gives Alex a withering look, and Alex gets it. Gets it immediately. He stares at John with wide eyes. Mouth falling open in a wide ‘o’. “He’s seriously making you go to a party so you can fuck your girlfriend?” There’s a pause. Then, “ _Who_ is your girlfriend?”

John knows he should tell Alex what happened between him and Martha. Knows he should tell Alex everything. But.

He can’t. _Those_ words won’t come.  

Instead, he steps forward. Wraps a his fingers around Alex’s ponytail and pulls him close. “You?” he asks carefully. “You wanna be my girlfriend?” Alex is boneless against him. His backpack slides off his shoulder. His eyes flutter. He lets out the most sinful moan. It’s gorgeous.

John can’t stop himself. He leans in. Kisses Alex’s lips. “You wanna be my pretty girl? My sweetheart?” he needs this. Needs to tug Alex to him. Needs to feel Alex’s body. Needs Alex to wash Martha away. “C’mere sweetie…make me happy.”

God bless him.

Alex _does._


	10. Chapter 10

In the days leading up to the party, Alex goes out and buys a dress. Wears pig-tails. Shaves the three whiskers he insists will become a beard one day. Even gets the girls at school to lend him some makeup.

Alex changes the moment he gets into John’s apartment. The school had come down hard the last time Alex wore a dress to school. John still had a scar on his hand from where he’d punched Cornwallis for making Alex cry. Alex can handle a lot of abuse, but John hates seeing him cry at the words of another. Hates watching him think less of himself.

But at home, safe in John’s apartment, he dresses up nice and pretty. He makes dinner for them, he sits on John’s lap. Lets John call him a pretty girl. Even pitches his voice a little to play into the fantasy.

John asks to goes down on Alex. Sucks him off while telling Alex what a nice pussy he has. Alex squirms. Whines. Begs John to fuck him. “Nice girls don’t beg to be fucked, sweetie,” John tells him. Nice girls just shove you against a wall and—

“— _ Please,  _ John please! _ ”  _ John shakes vile thoughts from his head. Gives Alex what he wants.   

When they’re done, Alex lays boneless in John’s arms. He snuggles his head against John’s shoulder. He presses kisses sweetly to John’s collarbone. “It’s going to be okay,” Alex tells him.

“I don’t want to go with Martha,” John replies. Hugging Alex closer. “I don’t want to be near him.” He ducks his head down low. Breathes harsh against Alex’ throat. “Near her.”

“Are you gay, John?” The question isn’t what John’s expecting. He pulls back just enough to scowl at Alex. Gesturing to Alex’ well satisfied body. His own dick smeared with semen. Alex isn’t impressed. “I’m bi-sexual,” he explains slowly. Clarifying needlessly. “I like men  _ and  _ women.” Alex scoots a little and looks John clear in the eyes. “Are you  _ gay? _ ”

The question seems silly. Especially when Alex’s pretty pink dress is hiked up. Panties shoved to the side. Make-up smeared. The same gesture he’d given to prove his point, also detracts from it. Alex is dressed up like a fantasy.

But it’s not  _ that  _ kind of fantasy for John. He likes the dress. Likes the hair. Likes the feminine style. But. It’s Alex dressed like that, and John’s under no illusions. He knows Alex’s body. Worships every part of that body. Dick and all.

_ (“Let me make myself perfectly clear, Jack. If you’re one of those faggots? You’ll never be considered a son of mine.”) _

“Yeah,” John whispers. “Yeah. I’m gay.”  _ And I don’t want to be Henry Laurens’ son. I don’t want to go to this party. _

Alex sits up. Dress sliding back into place. “You don’t like Martha Manning do you?”

“No,” John admits. Quietly. Shoulders tense. “I really don’t.”

He isn’t all that surprised when Alex hugs him. But he’s so grateful that he does.


	11. Chapter 11

Martha looks lovely in her dress. She stands in John’s apartment and glances around. Alex is sprawled on John’s couch, arms crossed over his chest. John’s sitting down by Alex’s feet. Tying his shoes. Trying not to think of what’s about to happen. “You live with John?” Martha asks curiously. 

“Nope,” Alex pops the ‘p’. Doesn’t explain further. 

John loves that about him. Wishes he could just lay down on top of Alex and ignore the way his head is spinning. 

He doesn’t. He mumbles goodbye to Alex. Pulls on his jacket. Escorts Martha down to the fucking car service his father sent around. “You’re rich?” Martha asks. He can practically see the dollar signs in her eyes. 

“My father is,” he replies.

_ (“Girls love money, Jack. It’s all they want.”) _

Martha squeezes her body as close as she possibly can. She kisses the side of his face. His jaw. His lips. 

“I’ve been thinking about that night,” she tells him. He tilts his head against the window. Her breath dances across his skin. She slides one leg over. Takes his hand and slides it onto her leg. 

“He can see us,” John tells her. Watching the driver’s eyes flick back in the rearview to look at them. 

“He’s a perv,” she tells him. She relents, though. Not arguing or pushing the topic. Apparently, despite evidence to the contrary, she doesn’t want to be seen. 

They ride to the party in silence. Get out of the car like a prince and princess. Heads turn. Voices whisper. John holds her hand. Walks her inside. His father meets them in the foyer. “Father, this is Martha Manning,” he introduces quietly. 

Martha’s the exact kind of girl that Henry Laurens thinks is appropriate. He smiles at her. Takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “I’m delighted to meet you, young lady.” She flushes. Courtseys. 

“Thank you for the invitation. It’s like going to prom!” His father laughs. 

“Well I hope you enjoy yourself as much as you will there.” The man has the audacity to wink at John. Before stepping back and instructing them to enjoy themselves. 

John’s planning on it. He walks directly to one of the waiters holding a tray of food, and starts to eat. They’re under age, but the bartender serves them non-stop Shirley Temples. John’s planning to drink himself to a sugar coma if he has to. 

Martha idles by his side. Looks around. Makes small talk. He can’t bring himself to engage in anything more in depth. There’s no dancing. There’s no one else their age. He can feel himself getting bored to tears, and he knows that she’s faring little better. 

John had hoped that his sister might be here. If not her, than one of his other siblings. He hasn’t had much time to meet them, and if his father is being generous, it would have been the ideal opportunity to put names to faces. In the end, anything would have been better than this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE BE CAREFUL with this chapter, intense description of non-con. This will be the last one.

By the fourth hour, Martha drags John upstairs. Eager to explore. She tells him to not make a scene. He doesn’t. His father gives John a wicked grin and an encouraging smile. There’s the bedroom that they’ve been encouraged to make use of. She knows exactly where it is. 

“Martha…” 

“Yes Johnny?” She steps forward. She found a condom in the bedside table. Father thinks of everything. She holds it up. Steps in close. Grinning. Her lips reach his. There’s no point in fighting this, he realizes. It’s scripted. Fate. 

John sags. Closes his eyes. Leans his head forward, and lets this happen. With his father downstairs, Martha here, and the expectations rising, he gives up. 

There’s no point in fighting. 

Martha leads him to the bed. Takes off his jacket. His shirt. His pants. He lets her push him down. Lets her wriggle so she’s sliding against him. “I don’t want to do this,” he tells her. Not making eye contact. Staring at the ceiling. 

“This says otherwise,” Martha leers. Sliding against his dick with a rough motion. It’s getting hard. That’s not fair. 

“It’s a reaction…” he reaches up. Closes his hands around hers. “I don’t want to do this.” 

_ (“Faggot!”) _

She grinds down again. 

She doesn’t stop. Keeps going. Her back bends. Pushing against him until her lips press tight to his. Pleasure and anxiety are mixing together in a lethal combination. He’s tipping toward hysteria even as she opens the condom wrapper. “Guys always want to do this,” she tells him. 

He doesn’t bother trying to argue anymore. The condom’s in place. She does all the work. Sliding down around him. John closes his eyes. 

Lets it happen. 

Tells himself it’s his choice. He can stop it if he wants to. He can walk out. He can.

_ (“Make me proud son.”) _

Alex sits like this sometimes. Straddles him while John does all the work. Whimpering and moaning. Flushing when John places his hands on his hips. 

Alex relishes the feeling of John’s hands on him. Babbles as John’s hands roam. Mouths at John’s throat, cheek, and chin. John’ll ask, “You gonna come for me, sweetie?” Savor Alex’s whines. 

Sometimes John will hold the base of Alex’s cock. Squeeze so tight  Alex couldn’t come even if he wanted to. John will slide deeper and deeper inside of Alex. Listen to his breathy whines and his quiet pleading. He’ll want to get off. 

Finish. 

“Please John, Please,” he’ll beg. 

And the seconds between John releasing Alex’s cock, and Alex actually finishing (tight hole squeezing even tighter around John’s dick), are the most sublime stretches of time John ever experiences. 

He doesn’t say a thing as Martha lets out her final gasps. Isn’t aware she said anything at all in return. But he feels her get off him and roll to the side. And at some point, he knows he’s been kissed. 

John glances toward the clock on the bedside table. He wonders if he can go home now.


	13. Chapter 13

John’s father  _ hugs  _ him before he leaves. Ruffles his hair like he’s proud. “We should get together sometime,” the man says. Oblivious. “Go over a few things.” John stares at a spot over his father’s shoulder. The very clothes he wears feel rough and scratchy. Seams itching badly along his shoulders. 

“Can I see Marty and Samantha?” John asks quietly. He hasn’t asked Henry for anything since he was a lot younger and more naive than he is now. His father frowns. Squints at him shrewdly. 

“You’re the one that closed that door,” he reminds John. It’s the truth. Henry never told John to not talk to them. But when Samantha had come to check up on him... _ after... _ John never answered. He never reached out. 

He never tried to reconnect. 

_ (“Always out of time.”) _

He nods wearily. Martha puts her arm around his. Thanks his father for a lovely time. Gets another kiss on the cheek. His father’s smiling. John drifts backwards. Wanders to the car. He slumps into the seat. Doesn’t even really notice it when Martha sits beside him. Smiling and languishing at his side. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Martha tells him. The car starts. John hates cars. Hates being in them. Hates the frailty life brings when it’s confined to these six walls. He closes his eyes. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Hello? Johnny?” 

“I said ‘no,’” John says. Because he’s suicidal. Because he’s always running late. Because he doesn’t care anymore. He’s going home. Alex will be there. 

Martha huffs. “Well if you’re going to be like that.” She doesn’t understand his meaning. 

She never did. 

No one ever does. 

The driver takes them home. Martha first. She stomps out of the vehicle without so much as a final word of parting. The door slams shut. John’s knees are brought to his chest. He lets himself float. Lets himself disappear into nothingness. 

By the time the car stops at his apartment, he’s floating. He manages to get out of the vehicle. Up the stairs. To his apartment. The door opens before he gets his key in the lock. Alex. 

Alex takes one look at him. He doesn’t need to say a word. He just reaches out. Pulls John to him. Lets him crumple against Alex’s body. Lets him cry. 

And he does. 

He cries. 

It’s not graceful. It’s not pleasant. There’s snot streaming from his nose. There are tears gushing from his eyes. He’s drooling on Alex’s shoulder. Mussing up the fabric on Alex’s pretty dress. More lovely than anything Martha had been wearing. More tempting in every way. 

John sobs. Alex sobs. They sob together. It’s a mess. It’s awful. “It’s going to be okay,” Alex tells him. 

But it’s not. “I said no,” John tells Alex. “I said no.” 

“I know,” Alex promises. “I know.” 

Saying ‘no’ has never mattered. But Alex promises: one day, it will. John looks forward to that day.

But he knows. 

It’s not today.


	14. Chapter 14

John plays hookie the next day. He spends hours in bed. 

_ (“Lazy brat.”)  _

Lets Alex run his fingers through his hair. Alex tells him that he’s safe. It won’t happen ever again. “Not ever.”

John has no idea how Alex is going to manage something as absurd as  _ that.  _ But it’s nice to hear him pretend. 

And that’s all John thinks it’s going to be. 

That is, until Alex marches up to Martha Manning on Tuesday and asks if she knows what the definition of ‘rape’ is. John’s frozen in place. Staring at the back of Alex’s head as he spits out words and sentences like it’ll kill him if he doesn’t. 

They’re not quite causing a scene. Not yet. Alex keeps his voice quiet and cold. Narrowed eyes boring holes in Martha’s skull. He’s seething mad. His hand squeezing down on John’s to keep him from fleeing or saying a damn thing. 

He couldn’t if he tried. His lips are pressed too tight. His throat is swelled too much. He’s swallowed his tongue. And Martha looks between the two of them in abject confusion. “I— _ what are you trying to say?”  _

“I’m saying, that when someone says  _ no  _ you don’t move forward. It’s as simple as that.” 

“He was  _ hard  _ if he wanted to stop he—”

“Did he say no?” Martha sputters. She actually looks so mortified by the question that John can feel bad for her. 

Can feel his head and heart starting to ache. He winces as she looks like she’s going to cry. This isn’t fair to her. He rallies. Tries to get it all together. Tries to form words. “Alex it’s not a—” he’s cut off. 

Alex doesn’t know how  _ not  _ to attack once he’s been given a target. It’s not in his repertoire. “It  _ is  _ a big deal,” he insists.  _ You’re  _ a big deal.”

“That’s what you meant?” Martha asks. Tears leak from her eyes. Her cheeks turn red. “When you said you said ‘no.’” John grimaces. Bites his lip. Looks away. “No...you  _ can’t  _ accuse me of  _ raping  _ you. You’re a  _ guy.  _ Guys can’t get raped. Especially not by  _ girls.  _ You can’t accuse—”

“He’s  _ gay  _ you daft baboon!” Alex hisses. John’s breath catches. His eyes flick around. Desperate to make sure no one’s heard. But no one’s looking their way. Their petty drama so far beneath their concern that no one looks up from their phones or their bags. “He’s been telling you for weeks to stop kissing him. Which is it? Martha? Are you a  _ complete  _ ass hole, or are you just deaf?” 

“He’s—that’s—” 

Martha brings her hands to her mouth. She lets out a choking wine. John hates the sound. He wants to tell her he’s sorry. Wants to make it better. 

But Alex squeezes his hand even harder. “Never touch John again,” he commands. “Don’t even look at him.” She sobs into her palms. 

But she promises. 

It doesn’t feel like it’s good enough. But John lets it go.


	15. Chapter 15

Martha takes to glaring at John in class. He sits down in his usual seat. Tries to sink invisibly through the floor, and Martha sits where she always sits. Glaring. Bitter and cruel. “I didn’t rape you,” she tells him whenever she deigns to speak to him. He doesn’t answer.

It’s Alex who made it a bigger deal than it needed to be. But...he’s almost grateful Alex had. Because now Martha isn’t pressing against his body. Isn’t kissing him for the thousandth time. Lips seeking contact where they don’t belong.

After every class, Alex finds a way to be there. Standing with his arms crossed. Glaring at Martha as she leaves. “You don’t need to do this,” John mutters. “I did something I didn’t want to do that doesn’t warrant—”

“John?” Alex asks. John’s mouth closes. “Shut up.”

He shuts up.

School’s a toxic wasteland. Martha’s in every single class he has. The tension is palpable. John hears kids asking Martha if they broke up. She tells them that John’s a filthy liar. He’s cruel.

“You took advantage of me,” Martha accuses almost two weeks in. John blinks at her. Not sure what to say. “You just _used_ me to figure yourself out.”

“Figure myself out?”

“If you’re _gay_ then why did you let me go down on you? Why’d you have sex with me? Didn’t you care about me at all?”

There’s white noise filling John’s head. Sharp and pervasive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“Didn’t think that it would _matter?_ Didn’t think that it’d hurt _me?_ Johnny I was your girlfriend. Or was that a lie too?”

John doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain.

_(“You fucking keep your mouth shut, boy!”)_

She’s crying. Alex appears in the doorway. Expression concerned...then _stormy_ in less time than a lightening strike. The thunder palpable. John stumbles backward.

Alex shifts forward. He holds out his hand, and John takes it. Desperate for some stability. “Oh. I see. Is he your boyfriend?” Martha sneers.

Alex sneers right back, “I make a hell of a lot better _girl_ friend then you ever will, sweetheart.”  The pet-name sounds vile on his tongue. Dripping with disdain and fury. Martha flinches. Alex isn’t done. “At least I’m bright enough to know when I’m being told to stop.”

It’s too far. John shakes his head. “Alex…”

“Fuck you John Laurens,” Martha hisses.

“With permission,” Alex hisses right back. He’s spoiling for a fight. John doesn’t want one. He glances between the two, and drops Alex’s hand. He’ll walk home alone if he has to.

Let them be catty together. He’s too tired to deal with this.

Marching from the school grounds, John isn’t prepared to deal with any more drama. He’s not surprised when more is created. Henry Laurens is waiting for him in front of the school. Expression temperate.

Interest uncertain.

He says, “let’s go for a ride.”

Alex appears at the door. John’s got no choice. He sags. And he follows.


	16. Chapter 16

“John!” Alex will not let this go. He calls out. Runs to catch up. John’s heart starts beating so loud it drowns out the traffic as cars pull away from curbs. Busses head down the road. Alex’s hands take hold of John’s arm. He’s jerked to a stop. 

His father knows. His father watches. Lips pressed tight. Unimpressed. “And who is this?” He asks slowly. 

John prays Alex has grown some sense in the past five minutes. Prays that he’s not stupid enough to make this worse. Prays he understands the difference between outing John to Martha and outing John to his father. “I’m his friend,” Alex snaps. John breathes a sigh of relief. “And you must be his homicidal piece of shit _ father.”  _ It’s quickly caught in his throat. 

His lungs seize. His vision goes dark. His mouth goes cotton dry. 

“What did you just say to me?” John’s father asks. He takes a threatening step forwards. It’s everything John can do to not crumple there in public. Not get to his knees, head down, begging him to not hurt Alex. To just leave it at him and be done with it. He’s exhausted. He’s not strong enough for the fights Alex keeps pushing him into. 

He needs a break. 

He needs to stop thinking. 

Everything’s happening so fast. 

_ Please just make it all stop.  _

“I  _ said,”  _ Alex starts. Though whatever he says is drowned out by a white noise so loud and piercing that John starts swaying on his feet. He tilts forward. Head bowing. 

The school grounds have emptied for the most part. There’s silence all around. Witnesses fleeing before the murder takes place. Something stings against John’s cheek. Alex surges at John’s side. 

He manages to clamp down on Alex’s hand. Jerk him backwards. John half wonders what he even looks like. Standing between his father and Alex. Watching the two of them posture and glare at one another. Receiving blows from both sides. 

Alex oblivious to the ones he lands himself. 

“John?” Alex asks. Confused. 

“Just leave it alone,” John tells him. “It’s a family concern.” 

“I’m not your family?”

Not by blood. But by choice. Alex is the only family John’s got. It doesn’t change the fact that Henry Laurens has a blood claim to John that Alex will never have. There’s a beat. A pause. Then. “You’re fucking each other aren’t you?” John doesn’t take his eyes off Alex. He keeps contact as long as he can. Henry reaches out, and takes John’s arm. Jerks him backwards. Out of view from the school. Around a corner where he shoves John against a wall. Alex scrambles to keep pace. But he’s always one step behind. 

Henry commands. “Tell me the truth.” 

“I’m gay,” John tells. 

“And your girlfriend?”

“Raped me in your house.” The first hit lands. 

John’s not even surprised. It’s awfully bold of his father to hit him here. But really?

He can’t bring himself to care. He just wants to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy discussion of depression in this chapter, please be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy discussion of depression in this chapter, please be careful.

John loses time.

From one moment to the next, he’s lost whole minutes. Hours. He doesn’t know. It’s night now. Alex is dabbing a cloth against his face. Washing away blood. Tending to bruises. John stares off somewhere in the middle distance. He’s lost.

He isn’t sure what he’d been playing for. Parental affection, maybe? But he knows he’s lost. He knows he won’t see his father again. He knows the next time he gets arrested, it’s going to be a long night with no one there to pick him up. Another latino boy causing trouble. No one there to save him. 

“Fuck him,” Alex tells John firmly.

John nods. Thinks that’s the right response. Pretend. Nod. Drift away. Lie beneath thick covers. Eyes closed and head ducked down.

He waits patiently beneath Alex’s ministrations. Nods his head when Alex asks him questions. Only vaguely aware that he has no idea what he’s nodding about.

He’s immeasurably grateful when Alex pulls him to bed. Curls around him and strokes his hair. John’s always kept it cut back. Stopping just under his ears. It’s long, but not too long. “Could grow it out,” he mumbles into his pillow. It’s not like it matters anymore.

He’s already the biggest disappointment his father’s ever known. He couldn’t even produce a _straight_ latino kid. He had to make a gay one. It’d almost be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

John rolls onto his back. Stares up at the ceiling. “This year sucks,” he declares.

Alex snorts. Leans over and kisses him. It doesn’t quite feel as nice as it used to. John blames that on the frozen state of his mind. He can’t psychoanalyze Alex right now. He can’t draw conclusions on anything.

He just wants everything to disappear. All the emotions and the thoughts to no longer exist.

He turns to look at his friend. His...whatever Alex is. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Alex promises.

There are so many words John wants to use. So many questions he wants to ask. _If that’s true, then why did you out me to Martha? To my father? If that’s true, then why did you get in the way? If that’s true, then why have you made this so much harder? If that’s true…._

_If that’s true._

John tugs Alex down to his chest. He closes his eyes.

Sleep doesn’t come.

He breathes in. Breathes out. Breathes in. Breathes out. He tries to steady the quiet buzzing in his mind. But it doesn’t exist. It doesn’t transform. It doesn’t turn into anything more than an anxious swirl.

Alex eventually dips off. John’s eyes open the moment he goes under. John stares at the ceiling. _Sleep_ , he commands himself. _Just go to sleep._

Sleep’s always been his one salvation. His one final piece of his puzzle. His one way to let the rest of the world go fuck itself and burn while he survives. Endlessly.

 _Sleep,_ he wills.

Sleep doesn’t come.


	18. Chapter 18

College acceptance letters start arriving in short order. John collects his envelopes and sets them to the side. Waiting. It doesn’t take long. Eventually Alex makes his decision. “I’m going here!” He announces, holding up the magazine. “It’s all sorted!”

John nods and tells Alex he was accepted to. His friend is ecstatic.

There are other schools. Better ones. More prestigious ones. Ones that have an actual field of study that John would be interested in pursuing. But. None of them have Alex. And if there is one thing that John has realized over the past few months...it’s that he truly cannot bear to lose his closest friend.

Martha’s association with John has turned so frosty and unpleasant that John does his very best to interact with the least amount of presence possible. He is forced, by proximity, to sit near her in some classes. He keeps his head down. He doesn’t look her way. He ignores the whispers of students wondering what went wrong.

“I never raped you,” Martha insists on the few occasions that she does say something to him. It’s a running mantra. Something she needs to tell herself in order to feel good at the end of the day. John doesn’t begrudge her the security that she’s searching for. He hopes she finds it. He knows that he can’t.

“Okay,” he concedes. Digging his hands into his pocket and looking away.

“Stop acting like you’re a victim. You’re not a victim. You’re _not that.”_

He keeps nodding. Will do so until however much she needs to understand that he never intended to hurt her. She’s nice. Friendly. Smart. She’s popular. And she has a lot of friends.

He didn’t want to hurt her.

But he has.

He couldn’t be a God-damned adult long enough to speak up. And now that he has… she’s filled with so much self-doubt it hurts. Hurts worse than anything before, because this too his his fault. He shouldn’t have said anything.

He should have just stayed silent.  

Nights have become singularly miserable. Stretching on and on. Clock hands spinning endlessly, and ultimately — uselessly. He’s exhausted. But whenever he closes his eyes, he finds that sleep won’t come. It eludes him. Mocks him.

He spends his evenings looking at Alex. Watching him sleep. Desperately wishing that he can reach out and just fall into that easy slumber with him. Close his eyes and not wake up again. It’d be so easy to do it too.

Alex would hate him for it. Would be so upset about it. “You okay?” He asks in the morning when he catches John staring.

“Fine,” John replies.

“Sleep well?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” John lies.

So it continues. Circling about. Day in and day out. The college acceptance letters come. His first choice college offers him a full ride. He puts it in the trash. Alex got accepted to a school up in New York.

He can learn to like New York.

Anything is better than here.


	19. Chapter 19

There’s a boy at school that John never really learned the name of. He’s part of  _ that  _ crowd. The one that smokes under the bleachers and is probably high most of the time. They share one class together. P.E. And somewhere between changing in the locker rooms and getting out onto the track, the boy’s moved toward him. 

“You don’t look so good, hermano.” 

John blinks at him. “I’m tired,” he replies. From the frown he receives, he wonders if he’d managed to keep the slur out of his words. He doubts it. The slur’s been prevalant since he hit the four day mark. Alex has started shooting him nervous looks. Biting his nail and asking him again and again if he’s all right. 

“You want something to help you go to sleep?” 

For a moment, John’s frozen in time. He looks at the boy. Knows what he’s offering. Knows full well what it’s going to cost him. What the consequences of these actions are. There’s a shrill laugh, and he glances over his shoulder Martha and her friends are splashing water from their water bottles at each other. The teacher’s telling them to knock it off. 

They look happy. 

Rested. 

“Please,” he whispers. Closing his eyes and dipping his head forward. 

The boy nods his head. Taps John’s shoulder. He’s a full head taller than John. Thin as a whippet and dressed in dark clothes. He’s a stereotype that gets a lot of attention from the school counselors trying to set him right. And John’s sat through all the DARE lectures and the endless health class attempts at education. But when the boy says, “Meet me after school.” 

He does. 

They meet. John tells Alex he has to talk to someone about financial aid for college, and Alex goes back to his foster family for the night. The Stephens are nice, but they don’t generally like it when Alex is out  _ every  _ night. They do like to see him once and awhile and make sure he’s still in one piece. 

The boy asks if John’s ever done this before. John shakes his head. “All right, come back to mine.” The boy turns. Starts walking away. And John follows. His feet drag underneath him. His head buzzes badly. Eyes drooping low. 

Threatening to close with each step. 

By the time they reach the boy’s house, John’s half convinced he won’t need whatever it is he’s about to be given. He’s going to collapse right there in the driveway. And yet, when the boy leads him downstairs, he goes willingly. 

When the pill is pressed to his pam in exchange for all the money in John’s pocket, he takes it. He swallows it. Nothing happens. 

Not at first anyway. Nothing changes at all.

But then. Then he feels it. His brain going numb. His eyes sliding shut. He tilts his body longways on the couch. Listens to the boy’s laugh. John’s floating. He’s flying. 

More importantly—

He’s sleeping. 

At last.


	20. Chapter 20

John graduates high-school. 

His family doesn’t attend the celebration. That’s ok. He doesn’t mind. The Stephens take Alex and him out to dinner. Ned punches John in the arm. “Great job!” he smiles back. Thanks Alex’s foster brother for the encouragement. Drifts back as the Stephens start toasting and passing out presents. 

John doesn’t get any. They’re not his. Not even nominally. It’s okay. He’s happy for Alex. After losing his mother...he deserves to have some kind of good in his life. He watches as Alex gets a backpack and books. Things he’ll need for his first semester in college. Alex offers to share them with John. He’s grateful for the shout out. But he doesn’t need it. 

He’s fine. 

After the family party, Alex drags John downtown for one last hurrah with the rest of their classmates. John doesn’t want to go. Even says something about going home. Calling it a night. Thinks maybe he’ll go visit his mama’s grave this weekend. Place his diploma down.  _ Look ma. I did it.  _

She’s who he misses the most. Who he wants to see now. Who he wants to go out to dinner with. It’d be something special to see her. To have her run her fingers through his hair and tell him  _ Beuno, mijo. Beuno.  _

Alex begs him to go downtown anyway. So he goes. 

He sees Martha standing with a group of girls. Drink in hand. John ducks his head. Hugs his arms across his chest. Alex leaves to get them their own refreshments. It doesn’t take long for her to approach. 

“Johnny.” 

“Martha.” 

They stand there. Across from one another like there’s an ocean between them. He wishes there were. She looks just as tired as he feels. “Tell me you wanted it.” Her eyes are filling with tears. She’s drunk. Wouldn’t be here otherwise. Wouldn’t be saying this to him. “Please. Please I need you to tell me you lied.” 

He knows he should. Knows he should lie to her. Should make her feel better. “I can’t,” he says instead. She leans forward. Doesn’t quite touch him. But she sobs. Sobs hard. Hands covering her face. She doesn’t apologize. He’s not sure he wants her to. 

He spots a familiar jacket walk on by. The boy from before. He grins at John. Tilts his head to the left. Away from all the noise. John knows what the boy wants. 

More importantly. John knows what  _ he  _ wants. “Goodbye, Martha.” He’s done with her. Walks past her. 

Leaves her and Alex to have fun on their own. Alex is a big boy. He’ll figure it out. John follows the boy away from the party. He pulls what little money he has out and passes it over. “Have fun,” he’s told. John nods. 

He’s in the center of a storm. The eye of a hurricane. And maybe just maybe if he keeps going like this, the harsh winds will stay at bay. He just wants this moment to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story does have a sequel planned. The sequel is currently 38k and is growing more every day. It will pick up on this. 
> 
> This story is the prequel to the lovingly dubbed "Inverse" fic for Non-Stop. Which follows John as he does drugs while Alex tries to help. While very different from Non-Stop, it follows certain themes closely. 
> 
> John's rape in this story plays a large role in John's eventual development and characterization. While I understand that the themes in this story were very difficult, I look forward to sharing a story that deals with the recovery of these events. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the continuation of this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a question? Prompt? falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com


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